Our dogs are rather different from most dogs in this rural area of Italy. To start with they understand English commands, not Italian ones. Then they sleep indoors, not in a kennel, or a huddle at the gate.

The nearby shepherd guards (as opposed to herds) his sheep and goats using ‘Maremmani’ – big, attractive but potentially ferocious dogs with fluffy white fur. There’s often one chained to a trough under the persimmon tree by the road bridge at the foot of the shepherd’s field.

The two hunting dogs in the photo certainly seem well trained and in tune with their handler’s wishes as he ploughs up our field in the course of a boar hunt today.

Several hours later, when I’m guessing the hunt was long over, there was the music of a hunting dog’s bell somewhere the far side of the orchard. The chime was hesitant, as though the dog were wandering unsure what to do, lost in the falling dusk.

It’s a feast day in Italy – no compensation for it having fallen on a Sunday, though.

There was a festive boar hunt at the top of the hill this afternoon – lots of gunshots and musical hallooing between the hunters. It sounded like they’d cornered a whole sounder. That’ll mean a big medieval-style feast – I’ve heard about what they get up to from our cleaning lady who sometimes tidies up after their meal.

We’ll be stuffing ourselves tonight, too, on the ‘rocciata’ which our neighbours kindly brought round. It’s a typical dish of this exact region, often prepared for All Saints, made from pastry filled with fruit. It tastes a bit like mince pie, although not quite so spicy, and it’s gloriously filling. Here’s a link to a recipe for ‘rocciata‘ in English!

When the boar hunters came round last time, I wrote in my blog post for the day that I believed the main danger during a hunt is from the guns.

Anyway here is a man carrying a rifle about 100 yards away from the house.

We were alerted about the hunt this morning when the dogs had already gone out. I told my contact that we’d get our 2 older dogs in, but please to watch out for a small brown one that looks like a fox as I might not be able to catch him.

After a lot of Peek-a-boo and Can’t-catch-me, I got hold of Kepler when the hunt was already underway in the distance. The bait that was eventually successful was a small piece of cheese.

I took the photo of the hunter from the bedroom window with all 3 dogs safely by my feet.

The only way I knew it was happening was that I had a phonecall this morning saying they were about to come on our land, and another one a bit later confirming (at my request) that they’d cleared off.

I asked the hunt organizer if they’d caught any.

“Four,” he said.

Wow, I thought. “Big ones?”

“Medium sized.”

That’s still quite a lot of meat, which will be distributed among the hunters.

Although I once saw a mature boar, exhausted after being chased for miles by dogs, the ones I’ve seen round the house look like the one in the photo – young, long-legged and agile.

They give the impression of playfulness. In fact our neighbour told us that he’d seen one playing with their dog. I don’t know if I’d interpret it quite like that – I’d want our dog in the house, quick.

Having said that, I believe the main danger during a hunt is from the guns. Apparently there are a lot of accidents.